


The Final Battle

by YouKnowNothinJonSno



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Baz's POV, First Kiss, Love Confession, M/M, One-Shot, Or Is It?, Pining, SnowBaz, So much angst, Unrequited Love, au: baz wasn't kidnapped by numpties, au: instead of the events of the book the old families and the mage's men go to war, au: natasha tells baz that the mage got her killed, au: the battle at Watford, but also a happy ending, the angst is real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 06:10:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11480289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouKnowNothinJonSno/pseuds/YouKnowNothinJonSno
Summary: Snow points his sword at me.  That stupid sword, because he never uses his wand.  The most powerful mage in the world, and he can’t even use his magic.  “Pick up your wand,” he demands.  He sounds angry.“No,” I tell him.  It’s always been so hard to say no to him, but not this time.  Because this time I’m saving him.—What if Baz hadn't been kidnapped, and Natasha Grimm-Pitch was able to tell her son that the Mage got her killed?  The Old Families and the Mage's Men start an all-out war, culminating in a battle at Watford.  Baz always knew it would end like this, him and Snow facing off.  But he always knew he could never kill the boy he loved, no matter the consequences.





	The Final Battle

This is it. This is the end.

I always knew this day would come, when Snow and I would inevitably have to fight each other for real. I should have known the veil lifting would be the catalyst — we all suspected my mum was killed by the Mage, and she proved it when she visited me. Simon was even there when it happened, when she told me that the Mage had let the vampires in. But of course Snow didn’t believe it. Not his beloved Mage. He didn’t seem to care that ghosts can’t lie.

The battle rages on outside, the Old Families struggling against the Mage’s followers, but here we are, inside the White Chapel, all alone. We can still hear the sounds of war outside, and the flashes of spells through the windows, but it feels oddly intimate to be cut off from it all in this building. Snow looks angelic in the moonlight that pours in; even his glare looks heavenly.

I know Aunt Fiona is counting on me. All the families are. My father, my step-mom. Mordelia. I know my whole life I’ve wanted to avenge my mother. Simon Snow is right in front of me, and this is my shot to end him. Without Snow, the Mage doesn’t stand a chance. I could end this.

But I’m not a hero. I’m not brave.

I would betray them all for the boy in front of me. It’s not a choice really. He’s the sun, and I’m a comet, burning myself up just to get closer.

I drop my wand. It clatters loudly on the marble floor. “I’m not going to fight you, Snow.”

He stops approaching me, and his glare becomes a puzzled frown. Crowley, even his frowns are beautiful to me. I want to touch him so much it hurts. We’ve never been enemies like this before. I can’t stand it.

Snow points his sword at me. That stupid sword, because he never uses his wand. The most powerful mage in the world, and he can’t even use his magic. “Pick up your wand,” he demands. He sounds angry.

“No,” I tell him. It’s always been so hard to say no to him, but not this time. Because this time I’m saving him.

He shifts on his feet, looking uncomfortable. Maybe even upset. “Come on, Baz,” he tries again, “fight me. You’ve always hated me.”

He says it like I’m the only one to hate the other, and it pisses me off. How many times have I had to endure his stalking, his accusations, his glares? How many times has he told the whole school that I’m a vampire, a villain? The rage boils up within me and I feel my fists clench at my sides. He has no idea.

So I say, “Yes, I have.” He looks surprised, even though he wanted this answer. “I hate you,” I snarl, “more than I’ve hated anyone, any _thing_ , in my life. More than the Mage who conspired against my family, more than the vampires who killed my mother. I hate you so bloody much.” I let out a desperate laugh, because why should I hide it any longer? I can’t take this to my grave. “But I could never hate you as much as I love you, Simon Snow.” His blue, blue eyes, his ski-slope nose. “It’s nothing, nothing compared to that. Because” — and even now my voice comes out strangled, raw, like these words are taking my voice — my _magic_ — away as they leave my mouth — “my love for you goes on, and _on_ , and _on_ — it’s _endless_. So go on, Snow, end me.” I feel exhausted, drained. I never knew honesty could hurt like this. “No hate you or I feel could ever compete with my love for you.” I want to drop to my knees, but I don’t. I’m still a Pitch. I will still die with some dignity. “So come on,” I say, swaying where I stand, not letting myself collapse at his feet; that’s too pathetic, even for me. “I’m waiting.”

Snow is silent, staring at me like he can’t believe what I’ve just admitted. He’s probably trying to figure out what my angle is. He’s probably appalled. I can’t meet his eyes.

“I always knew I would die like this,” I say, hoping it will urge him into action. “At your hands.” I think, _You’ve been killing me for so long_.

Snow is gaping at me; his sword hangs loosely at his side. Now, I do meet his eyes. And it isn’t hate I see there, not even pity. It’s remorse. And hope. And all the dumb things I can’t stand and at the same time love about Simon Snow. He can care about anyone, somehow, if he decides to, even me.

I don’t think about it; I take a step closer, and he tenses, but he doesn’t raise his sword again. I must have one hell of a death wish. There’s only a sliver of space between us now. His curls are near enough to run my fingers through. I long to close the slight distance, press my lips to his like I’ve always wanted to. Maybe then I can die happy. If I have to die tonight, I want to die kissing Simon Snow.

But I don’t do it, because I know it won’t be how I imagine, with him kissing me back. I don’t want to kiss a statue. I don’t want to mar my fantasies of him, of _us_. Maybe I was never meant to get my happy ending. What monster is?

Snow is still silent; he was never good with words. His mouth is agape and he looks like an idiot. _My_ idiot, my _favorite_ idiot.

I count his moles one last time. One under his left eye, a second and third on his cheek, the fourth nestles sweetly into the curve of his jaw. What I would give to be one of his moles, able to live my life just touching Simon Snow and doing nothing else. What I would give to kiss every one of the moles on his skin.

I lean down and scoop up my fallen wand, not breaking my staring match with Snow; he doesn’t make a move to stop me. _Idiot_ , I think, _I could kill you_. Maybe he knows I won’t. He still doesn’t raise his sword.

If Snow won’t end it, I will. I know the spell; mum would be proud. I’m following her out.

“ **Tyger, tyger** ,” I say, my magic curling around the words, but I never finish the incantation.

Because _he_ kisses _me_.

Simon Snow is kissing me.

And it feels just like I thought it would: like burning in an everlasting fire; like dying a sweet, sweet death.

 

It doesn’t stop the war. No kiss can do that, not even one from Simon Snow. But wars always end. This one is not ours to fight; we don’t owe these people anything. I won’t let them hurt him. Snow may want to save the day, but he’s still just a boy. A marvelous, passionate, kind, indescribably beautiful boy. He makes the sky brighten and the stars shine. He is smoke and fire and everything that is sure to kill me in an instant. He is power and light and _good_. He is Simon Snow.

And I love him.

**Author's Note:**

> I love to hear from readers, almost as much as I love SnowBaz!


End file.
